


Blood

by sensitivebore



Series: Lady Lights [4]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitivebore/pseuds/sensitivebore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elsie and Sarah, and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood

"And you're sure ye' don't mind, Elsie? Sarah is used to a gang of them all the time, but I don't want to be imposin'."

Elsie smiles and watches Sarah jiggle the baby on her hip, making little playful gestures at her. Her niece — Niamh, she believes this one is — had shown up this morning, desperate for someone to watch her daughter for a couple of days while she traveled upcountry for a job interview. Elsie had hesitated for a moment; she likes babies well enough but she wasn't sure if they were up to caring for one. Wasn't sure, that is, until Sarah had plucked the wee girl from the basket and crowed with delight, snugging her warmly to her body.

"No, I daresay we'll be fine, Niamh. Your aunt is already well settled in it seems." Elsie looks over where Sarah is showing the girl various things around the shop, pointing out cakes and pies and flavors of tea. With a last grateful look and press of hand, Niamh rushes out to catch her bus, and the two women are left alone with the round, red-haired babe.

"I'll have you know I won't be getting up at three in the morning with her, Sarah O'Brien." Elsie gives her a stern look but can't help smiling as her lover turns, is caught in the sunlit window with the girl cradled against her and, truly, is very beautiful that way. Softer, more tender than most of the world would ever believe - they'd never believe at Downton, not for a minute, but that was the trouble of that lot anyway, they'd never been able to see what Sarah really was in all of her complexity.

"Ye' will, too, we'll take it in turns. Don't go putting on that face, either, I know ye' love them, dunno why you're always pretending." Sarah drops a wink at her before bustling off to warm a bottle for the baby's breakfast. She's half-right, Elsie thinks; she doesn't mind the baby, really, babies are quite easy to get on with — feed them, keep them dry, let them sleep, give them a lullaby if they need. She's capable of caring for them, but she doesn't have that easy love that Sarah has for children, that rough mothering instinct.

But, she thinks,  _together_  — together they will do quite nicely.

"What's this one's name, then?" She calls back toward the kitchen as she opens the till, begins counting up change, getting everything ready to start the day.

"Katie."

Elsie grins. "And how many Katies is that now? Seven? Eight?" She teases Sarah at her expansive brood, at the seemingly endless O'Brien clan, but a part of her is sadly envious, wistful, wonders what it was like growing up with all of those brothers and sisters and aunties and uncles. There had just been her and Glenna for all of her girlhood, and Glenna is all she has left now.

"Just two, for Christ's sake. Ye' act like we're a horde of Mongols or something'." Sarah comes back in with the baby slung easily in one arm, holding the bottle expertly with the other. Elsie reaches over and raps her briskly on the bottom.

"I think that's enough rough talk from you, Miss O'Brien, and in front of a bairn at that. What will we do with her while you're cooking and I'm minding the shop, may I ask?" Elsie counts out napkins quickly, stacks them in a neat pile, does the same with saucers, spoons.

"She'll be fine, she can crawl around on the floor."

The older woman looks at her in horror. "In the kitchen, with you boiling water and throwing hot pans everywhere? I hardly think so; Niamh wants her baby back in one piece, I'd warrant." Sarah snorts.

"How do ye' think my mam managed with all of us? We lived. This one will, too." With that, she drifts back into the other room and Elsie hears her talking to the baby. "She worries too much, that one, don't pay her a blind bit of notice."

The day goes on without event — well, without much; the baby manages to get into one of the bottom cupboards and pull out all of Elsie's best tablecloths, gets under their feet constantly until Elsie plucks her up, sits her in a corner and gives her wooden spoons to play with. They close early and collapse in their sitting room after an easy dinner, watching the girl scoot around the floor and explore everything, up to and including Elsie's beloved cat, a fat sleek tabby that merely opens one eye when the baby begins to teethe on its tail.

Elsie is exhausted, more tired than she's been in a very long time; Katie isn't work, exactly, she's been no real trouble, it's just the endless worrying, the constant feeling of nervousness and fright that she's gotten into something, that she's gotten out the back door somehow, that she's fallen and hurt herself. Sarah, on the other hand, is laughing, relaxed, at ease with it all. Doesn't immediately jump up when the toddler crawls off happily into the next room, doesn't hover anxiously when the cat stretches out one clawed paw and pats her in warning.

"Ye' got to relax, Elsie, they're tougher than they look."

Elsie makes a noncommittal sound and rests her head sleepily on Sarah's shoulder; her lover presses a firm kiss to her forehead.

"Bed, I think, for all of us."

They change, clean their teeth; Elsie sees to the baby's diaper and little nightgown, washes her up, tucks her into the basket that will serve as a makeshift cot. Sarah grins when she hears her talking.

"Come on, cabbage, hands in, all the fingers, every last one."

"Ye' got a thing about calling people vegetables, ye' know that?"

Elsie smiles.

She and Sarah crawl into their own bed and Sarah is asleep with a murmured word of love moments later.

Elsie is not. She lies awake, listens for the baby's breathing, wonders if she tucked her in too tightly. Stealing a glance at Sarah, she slides from beneath the blankets and goes to check. All is well, the girl is sleeping soundly, but all the same Elsie loosens the quilt a bit before going back to bed. She lies there, listens.

It's a bit chilly, she thinks; she considers the quilt and thinks perhaps a light blanket wouldn't hurt; after all, they're so little and must get cold so easily. She bites her lip and again steals from the bed, tries hard not to jostle the mattress and disturb Sarah. Finds another blanket, drapes it lightly over the tiny body. Creeps back into bed.

Lies there. Listens. The baby makes a small gurgling sound, shifts around in the basket, and Elsie is up quickly, alarmed; she can't breathe properly, the basket isn't big enough, she's having bad dreams, she'll start to cry soon. Surely enough, Katie whimpers, a little hand reaches, and Elsie scoops her up. She's asleep again immediately and this is ridiculous and —

Sarah puts a hand on her shoulder and Elsie almost screams.

"Sarah O'Brien! Say something next time, you put the death right across me!" She hisses in a whisper and the younger woman is looking at her with tender, laughing eyes and now she's turning her, steering her towards the bed.

"Ye' ain't never going to sleep unless we do this so just be quiet and give me the baby and get into the bed, woman. Don't argue." Elsie lets her take the girl and climbs into bed, trying to explain.

"I was just — "

" — worried, I know." Sarah slides back into her place and is laying the baby down between them where she nestles warmly between their bodies, between the soft swells of their breasts, and Elsie plucks at the blanket, fidgets with it.

"Sarah, she — I'll lay on her, Sarah, she can't sleep with us." Sarah ignores her and snuggles down, one arm gently draped around the sleeping child. She's breathing regularly and asleep herself almost instantly.

Elsie watches them there, watches her lover in the pale moonlight that streams through the window, watches her sleeping with the baby cradled so easily, so lovingly in one lean golden arm and she scoots down herself, turns onto her side. Loops her own arm over and around and now the child is held securely between them in a loose circle and Elsie finally, blessedly, sleeps.

Sarah opens her eyes when she hears the older woman fall asleep, smiles, and for perhaps the first time in her life, everything is right. Everything is perfect and this isn't their baby, no, she's not foolish enough to entertain such notions, but it's their moment and she'll take it for what it is — a moment where one of her own blood is cupped against her heart and the woman who holds her heart is safely curled into a soft bed with her, all of that beautifully aged grace and intelligence and beauty radiating just inches away and this funny little new life, this little O'Brien, held between them and Sarah is good, she's completely content.

She'll take it just fine.


End file.
